


fettered heart, waking

by redeyedwrath



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Jealousy, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Time Travel, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24148822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeyedwrath/pseuds/redeyedwrath
Summary: Dimitri calls out, “State your purpose! What business do you have here?”The intruder turns around and…It’s him. It’s him, but it’s nothim; his hair is longer, and his face is sharper, and there’s a tightness to his stance that Sylvain doesn’t recognize, but he’s undeniably looking at his own face.-In which, Sylvain meets his future self, learns some interesting things, and gains a boyfriend in the process
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 210
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	fettered heart, waking

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO I WROTE THIS IN 2 DAYS THE LOGISTICS AND TIMELINE DO NOT MAKE SENSE BUT THIS PROMPT ACTUALLY POSSESSED ME SO WE'RE GONNA ROLL WITH IT!!!!
> 
>  **NOTE: THE SEX IN THIS FIC IS BETWEEN POST-TS!SYLVAIN AND PRE-TS!FELIX.** Felix is 18 in this fic, so it's not underage - but if you're not comfortable with it, please don't read any further!!!
> 
> I'd uuuh been thinking about writing something like this for a while and then someone posted the prompt below on the kinkmeme and I HAD to write it. It deviates quite a bit actually from the prompt (mostly just the vibe, this is meant to read kinda humorous but also angsty and hot??? idk) but since it's inspired by it it counts as a fill (I think!!!)
> 
> Anyway, OP if you're out there your brain is huge and thank you for the excuse to write.
> 
> **Prompt:**  
> 
>
>> Via mumblemumble time travel shenanigans timeskip!Sylvain finds his way back in the Academy phase because reasons. And spends most of his time flirting with/seducing Felix and fucking him in places where he knows his past self will hear or see them.
>> 
>> \+ Felix thinks they're sneaking around and nobody knows what's going on between him and the older Sylvain (lol)
>> 
>> \+ Both Sylvains just absolutely hating each other but maintaining a facade of affability toward one another to keep the peace
>> 
>> \+ I'm not picky about which route this would be set in, I could even go for timeskip!Sylvain being from one route and ending up in the academy phase of a different one
>> 
>> \+ Timeskip!Sylvain adoring Felix as much as he hates his younger self, like he's getting multiple things out of this and isn't just using Felix as a conduit for tormenting himself
>> 
>> \+ Academy!Sylvain being very jealous and having fucked up issues about Felix being "defiled" and tainted while also still being deep in denial about having feelings for Felix in the first place

_Feel my heart burning_  
_Deep inside, yearning_  
_I know it is coming_  
_A fettered heart, waking_  
_Tainted youth, fading_  
_Leave it all behind_

**— Deep, Anathema**

* * *

They find him at the edge of the Monastery.

When news of an intruder with fiery red hair came, they’d been prepared for a fight. Everyone had gotten their weapons out, steeled their expressions; the Professor had spent a few thousand gold on supplies. Sylvain had feared it was Miklan. 

It’s not Miklan. That much is clear the second they see him - he’s taller, and his hair is less shaggy. He carries himself with a confidence that Miklan never had. 

He’s not even disappointed that it’s not Miklan. In fact, he’s kind of relieved. 

And then, Dimitri calls out, “State your purpose! What business do you have here?” 

The intruder turns around and… 

It’s him. It’s him, but it’s not _him_ ; his hair is longer, and his face is sharper, and there’s a tightness to his stance that Sylvain doesn’t recognize, but he’s undeniably looking at _his own face_. 

“Come on, your highness,” he sees himself say. “Is that any way to treat your friends?”

* * *

The Professor ties his double’s wrists with a length of rope and takes him to Hanneman, Dimitri trailing behind them just in case. His double goes without any issues, winking at them. 

Well. At least now he knows why his friends don’t like it when he does that. 

In the dining hall, Ashe asks if his double is a sort of shapeshifter. But, as Ingrid points out, those don’t exist as far as they know. Annette thinks he might be a ghost, an idea Mercedes seems to like. Dedue just shrugs when they ask him. 

Sylvain just hopes they figure it out soon. One of him is already too many. 

After they’ve eaten dinner, Ingrid stands and says, “I’m going to bring Felix his portion.” 

She walks off to the training grounds with the cold plate of food in her hands. Sylvain watches her go, leaning back against the table. 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night, guys,” he says, and waves everyone goodbye.

Tomorrow’s going to be exhausting. 

* * *

“No really,” his double says. He’s out of his armor, stripped down to his blue tunic and brown leather pants. “I’m from the future, guys.”

“But time travel doesn’t exist!” Annette pipes up. “It goes against all laws of magic!”

His double shrugs, eyes flickering over to the Professor. “Well, I’m here anyway, aren’t I?”

“I would say this is nonsense, but his Crest is decisively that of Gautier,” Hanneman sighs. His desk is filled with papers and his eyes are sunken - apparently he stayed up to research all night. “I can think of no other possibility.”

 _Goddess_ , Sylvain thinks, turning his eyes to the sky, _I have never asked you for any favors, but if you’re out there, this would be a good time to do me a solid_.

“When will you leave,” Felix says. He’s standing in the corner of the room, one leg resting on the wall, arms crossed. If it wasn’t Felix, Sylvain would’ve forgotten he exists. But Sylvain has come to accept that he always knows where Felix is.

Apparently, his future self retains that skill, because he doesn’t look at all surprised to see Felix is standing in the corner. “When it’s time for me to go, I guess. Depends on what my friends in the future do.”

Dedue hums. “If you are sticking around, we cannot keep calling you Sylvain. A nickname is needed.”

“Agreed,” Sylvain says. If he has to deal with himself, at least they can give him another name. 

“Perhaps ‘Syl’ would be a good alternative?” Dimitri says. Sylvain’s heart drops. He knows Dimitri means well, but there’s no way this is going to go over well. 

Frantically, he tries to motion at Dimitri to stop talking, but Dimitri keeps barrelling on: “After all, that’s what Fe-” Felix glares at Dimitri. “- _we_ used to call you when we were younger, after all.”

His double grins at them, turning to face Felix fully. “Sounds _perfect_.”

Sylvain doesn’t get the chance to get a good look at Felix before he stomps out of the room, but the tips of his ears are pink, and his shoulders are drawn. Great, now Dimitri has made Felix angry at his double, which probably means Felix is angry at him too. 

He turns to glare at Dimitri, but instead catches his double’s - _Syl’s_ gaze. Syl winks at him, shit-eating grin on his face. Sylvain is no stranger to self-hatred, but this annoyance he feels takes that to a whole new level. 

* * *

He quickly learns that he was wrong about that. 

Syl takes to Felix like a duck to water. Somehow, he knows just what to do around him; not once has Felix gotten angry at Syl. It pisses Sylvain off. 

He knows it’s stupid, that he’s jealous of himself. It’s _him_ that Felix is getting along with. He can’t be that different from his future self, right? It should feel like a compliment. 

But it doesn’t. Especially not when he walks into the training grounds one day, eating an apple, looking forward to getting his ass kicked. If Felix isn’t in his room, he’s training. And he _is_ training, just not by himself. 

Syl is the one opposite of him, still wearing that tunic - as much as Sylvain does not like himself right now, that blue color _does_ look good on him. His sleeves are rolled up, and they’re both panting. 

Felix is on his toes, eyes narrowed in focus. His hair sticks to his forehead in strands, face red. Syl parries him and strikes at his side, almost managing to hit him. Felix manages to dodge at the last second, and he grins at Syl when he’s found his balance. 

Sylvain takes a bite out of the apple.

They turn around at the crunching sound. Felix lowers his weapon, eyebrows raised. Syl leans on his lance, smirking. Sylvain takes another bite. 

“Oh, don’t mind me!” he says, trying not to sound like his heart is dropping out of his body straight to the underworld. “I’m just passing through.”

He turns around and leaves before either of them can say anything to him. Whatever anyone says, he does _not_ run away. And if his destination was the library, practically the furthest from the training grounds he could get, that’s just a coincidence. 

* * *

He starts spending a lot more time with Annette and Mercedes, and a lot less time with Felix and Ingrid. He tells himself that it’s not because he’s actively avoiding the training grounds; he’s just trying to catch up on his black magic course. 

However, as much as he tries, he can’t seem to avoid Syl entirely. Somehow, way faster than Sylvain ever did, he manages to worm his way into the Blue Lions and become an integral part. 

He talks with Dedue about botany. He talks battle tales with Ashe and Ingrid. Mercedes and Annette are too nice not to hang out with him - plus, they’ve made it their personal mission to feed Syl more once they saw how far his ribs were sticking out. The Professor takes it with a cool indifference, like they do everything. Dimitri seems elated to have another friend.

Felix… 

When he’s not sparring with Syl, Felix is talking about battle strategies with him, or walking with him - to the dorms or to class or wherever Syl decides to go - or _drinking tea with him_. Sylvain didn’t even know Felix liked drinking tea, and here he is doing it with Syl!

The thing is, they all have good reasons to do it. He doesn’t blame them one bit; he wouldn’t hang out with himself either if there was a nicer, newer, less flirty, more serious version of him walking around. 

Because Syl is less flirty and more serious, which is what they’ve always wanted out of him. He doesn’t pay attention to any of the women who throw themselves at him - which, honestly, came as quite a surprise to Sylvain and the rest of the Blue Lions the first time it happened, the way he just smiled politely at her and told her he was hanging out with his friends, but maybe someone else would be interested, like that knight over there who kept looking at her when she couldn’t see them. 

His friends had all looked happy. Felix had drawn in a sharp breath. Sylvain doesn’t want to know what the expression on his face was like, because it probably wasn’t good.

The only time Syl had gotten angry with any of them, _really_ gotten angry, is when they asked for specifics. What the future would hold for them, and whether or not Dimitri would be a good King. If Ingrid would become a knight, like she’d dreamed.

He’d turned to them, a calmly furious expression on his face, fingers clenched into fists, and said, “The person who sent me here _explicitly_ told me not to tell you guys. Don’t ask me again.” 

And so they hadn’t. But, if the way Syl’s expression darkened whenever one of them laughed or expressed their hopes and dreams to him was anything to go by, Sylvain probably didn’t want to know anyway. 

* * *

It all comes to a head a week later. 

During breakfast, a girl approaches their table. She’s wringing her hands behind her back, dusting off her skirt for lint. Sylvain turns to face her with a smile - he knows what she’s going to ask. 

He says yes, of course, almost tripping over himself to do so. She looks glad to be invited on a date with him, and he’s all too glad to invite her. 

She leaves, and he turns to his friends with a smug look on his face. They all look various degrees of disgusted, and he purposely widens his grin. At least it means they’re still paying attention to what he does. 

Felix turns away, jaw clenching, eyes focused on the grain of the table. Syl’s eyebrows are raised like he’s judging Sylvain. Well, whatever, they were the same fucking person; if anyone here understands him, it’s Syl. 

However, instead of commiserating with him, or sending him even the slightest sign that he felt empathy for Sylvain’s situation, Syl just sighs. Then, he turns to Felix, and squeezes his shoulder. 

Felix shrugs his hand off, but Syl doesn't retreat; no, he leans in closer and whispers something in Felix’s ear. Something that makes Felix smile at him, barely there but still noticeable. And instead of storming off, like Sylvain thought he would, Felix remains seated at the table. 

If Sylvain cuts into his lunch with more vigor than usual, no one dares to say anything. 

* * *

He goes on that date later that night, intent on sleeping with this girl. It might not make him feel better, but at least he would stop thinking about whatever was going on between Syl and Felix. 

The glint in her eyes whenever she looks at him is too much, though, and Sylvain is just so _tired_. So he tells her goodbye when they’re done eating, and he doesn’t feel bad when she stomps off. 

The Monastery is dark when he gets back, no one around except for the few unlucky guards that got the night shift this week. Not even the gatekeeper is at his post, and Sylvain was kind of convinced the guy was married to that spot. 

He decides to stay at the dock for a bit, just to clear his head. These days, all he does is run around and pretend he doesn’t feel the things he did. Between Syl, and Felix, and all the studying there is never any time to just _think_. 

The moonlight bounces off the water’s surface, lighting the area around the lake with an eerie glow. Sylvain watches his reflection in the rippling water, distorting the lines he knows so well. Fuck. He and Syl look so alike - they’re the same fucking person - and yet… 

He knows that if it came down to it, they’d prefer Syl over him. 

It’s not the first time in his life Sylvain comes to a realization like this, the idea that he’s unwanted. But for some reason, this one hits particularly hard. He breathes out, trying to calm himself. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays at the dock, just breathing. At some point, a cat comes up to headbutt his hand, and he pets it with a smile. It threads between his legs and stays there, purring softly. 

Suddenly, someone grunts. Sylvain freezes. He knows that sound. 

Felix. 

He scrambles up, runs over to where the noise is coming from. The entrance to the dorms is lit by a single candle, just enough to make out what is going on. There, standing in the opening, are Syl and Felix. 

They’re too close together, Syl towering over Felix, a soft smile on his face as he rubs his thumb over the curve of Felix’s jaw. Felix’s lips part; the look on his face is… private. Almost soft. Sylvain almost feels guilty, looking at him like this, but he aches with the urge to see more. 

Syl leans in closer, until his mouth is resting next to Felix’s ear. 

“Come on, Fe,” Syl breathes, just loud enough for Sylvain to hear. “You know you want to.”

“Goddess,” Felix breathes out. “I’m so sorry.”

He grabs Syl by the neck. 

They’re kissing, mouths open - Sylvain can see the way Felix pushes his tongue into Syl’s mouth and the way Syl’s lets him, just tilts his head and opens his jaw. Sylvain raises his eyebrows; he hasn’t imagined Felix like this, kissing someone without abandon (he has), but if he would have (he did), he’d think Felix would be shy.

But Felix is strong as he moves his hand to Syl’s hair, tugging at the strands. Syl moans against him, grabbing at Felix’s hips, his hands large enough to make Felix seem slim. Sylvain feels sick watching it, but he can’t look away; not when Syl moves his hands to grab at Felix’s ass. 

Not when Felix lets out a loud moan, drawing back from their kiss to breathe. He rests his head on Syl’s collarbone, panting loudly. One of Syl’s hands comes up to cup the back of his head, and the soft smile on Syl’s face almost makes Sylvain want to cry. 

“Doesn’t it feel good to let go of all that tension?” Syl whispers. Felix nods, his forehead digging into Sylvain’s skin. “You’re fine, Felix, come on. Kiss me again.”

And Felix does, he seals his mouth over Syl’s with a kind of desperation that Sylvain has never seen before, his hands scrambling to clutch at Syl’s shoulders. The soft sound of kissing echoes through the abandoned monastery, Felix’s sighs so loud in the quiet of the night. 

Sylvain should leave. He should leave and cut his losses and feel sorry for himself. But fuck, the way Felix is moving, the way he sounds, the way he _looks_ … 

He shoves a hand down the front of his pants, grinding his hand down on his dick. 

When he looks up, Syl’s kissing down Felix’s neck. Felix looks so good like this, all tight muscle and blissful expression. He breathes in sharply when Syl bites down, hands clenching in Syl’s bright red hair. 

“Oh baby,” Syl mumbles into Felix’s skin. “You’re wound so tight, no one’s been taking care of you, huh?”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Just shut up and touch me.”

Syl laughs. “Of course.”

Instead, though, Syl just goes back to kissing Felix, wet and obscene. Sylvain stops moving his hand, just to avoid coming so soon. He wants to see the whole thing. 

He’s so preoccupied with calming down that he doesn’t even notice Syl’s hand reaching for Felix’s cock until Felix lets out a high-pitched whine, fingers digging into Syl’s shoulders. Felix is bucking into his grip, and Sylvain can _hear_ the slick noises from here, can see Felix’s cock disappearing in Syl’s hand. 

The noises Felix makes shoot straight to Sylvain’s cock. Abstractly, he knows he should be feeling guilty about this, but he’s so fucking turned on he can’t think, arousal hot in his stomach. 

“Say my name, Fe,” Syl says, and strokes hard, fast. 

Felix shivers against Syl. They look so good together, Felix clutching onto Syl’s shoulders, his dark hair a stark contrast with Syl’s fiery red, desperation against a fond possessiveness. Felix is biting his lip, blood flowing to his face 

Sylvain has to stifle his own noise, hand moving up and down on himself. Felix looks so fucking gorgeous. 

Desperate, but still contrite; Sylvain sees Felix’s legs trembling, his muscles locking up, like he’s trying not to show how affected he is. Syl grins, and bites down on Felix’s neck. 

“ _Sylvain_ ,” Felix moans, low and forced as he comes in Syl’s hand, melting into him. Syl presses kisses onto his face, whispers too soft for Sylvain to catch. 

Fuck. He wants that to be him. He wants to be the one to do that to Felix. He comes hard, blinding, legs wobbling. He keeps thrusting into his hand, watching Syl jerk himself off, watching Felix pant with dark eyes, riding out his orgasm. 

His lip has split, and he licks up the blood. 

Afterwards, Syl kisses Felix - once, twice - and Sylvain has to watch Felix smile again, at someone who’s not him. It’s the small, soft, sincere smile, too - Sylvain’s favorite. They walk into the dorms together, fading out of sight quickly in the dark. Their hands are tangled. 

Sylvain doesn’t know how long he stands there, outside. Long enough to get his breathing under control, and for the guilt to start setting in. He tiptoes up the stairs to his room, and prays no one hears him. 

* * *

He sees them everywhere, after that. They’re not exactly subtle; the way Felix favors Syl, the way he smiles when he thinks no one is looking, the way he touches Syl. Actual touching, not just accidental brushing, but fingers on shoulders and knees and _hands_. 

The way Felix blushes sometimes, when Syl looks at him, like it’s their little secret, but they would have to be _blind_ not to see what’s going on between them. 

Syl, for his part, doesn’t try to be subtle either. He keeps glancing at Sylvain, too, whenever Felix touches him, like he’s saying: “Look at what I have and you missed out on.” As if they’re not already rubbing it in Sylvain’s fucking face: Felix has never been hard to read, and always too emotional. 

Sylvain is probably too hard to read, but the way Syl’s eyes soften when he looks at Felix gives him away to anyone who does more than just glance their way. 

Annette stops asking him what’s wrong during their study sessions. Mercedes looks at him with pity. Sylvain has taken to literally burying his face in books to escape all of it. 

There’s always been a voice in the back of his head that said, _You’re going to lose Felix, you will lose him, he will love someone else more than you_ , but he’d never thought he’d lose Felix to a better version of himself.

* * *

He’s taken to walking back to his room through the dining hall. Anything to avoid the training grounds and the marketplace - the spaces where Felix can be found most often. It takes way longer, but he thinks it’s worth it; if he doesn’t, and he sees Syl cozy up to Felix one more time, he might actually murder himself. 

They don’t need even more of a time paradox than the one they already have. 

So far, he’s been lucky: in the two weeks since Syl magically appeared on their doorstep, he’s managed to avoid him (and, consequently, Felix) this way. Most of the time. 

Unfortunately for him, Syl’s sitting on the dock today, feet dangling in the water. It’s weird; he must’ve looked like this the night Syl and Felix…

Fuck, wait, no. He shouldn’t think about that. 

He’s about to slip past Syl when something catches his eye: Syl is holding something. It’s small, and sunlight glints off it in yellow stripes. Whatever it is, Syl is smiling fondly down at it, cradling it in his hands. 

He inches closer, trying to get a peek at what could possibly be so important to his future self. 

A ring. It’s a bright gold wedding ring, one that Syl probably tucked away the second he teleported here. Sylvain almost sees red. 

“You’re _married_?” he blurts out, walking up to Syl. Syl jumps, turning around to look at him. His hand closes over the ring, and he quickly tucks it back into his pocket. “You’re married, and you still decided to fuck around with Felix like that?”

Syl’s face relaxes, tension draining from his shoulders, and he laughs softly. He grabs the ring again, rubs his thumb over it - the sides of it are worn down. 

“Sylvain,” Syl says, smiling. Sylvain doesn’t get what’s so funny about this. “Who do you think we married?”

A noble, probably, if his Dad had anything to do with it. He’s about to open his mouth to yell at himself, but…

Oh. 

Wait, really? 

“You’re married…” Sylvain says. Stops. Swallows. Why is this so hard for him to say? He wipes his sweaty hands on his pants. Syl looks at him with amusement. “... To Felix?”

Syl snorts. “Of course I’m married to Felix.”

Sylvain marries Felix. In the future. Better yet, _of course_ he’s married to Felix. Sylvain sits down next to Syl, unabashedly staring at the ring. That… that changes things. 

“I know we decided long ago that marrying for love wasn’t in the cards for us, but…” Syl sighs. “Well. Things change. I changed.”

There’s so much in that statement, in the way he says it, that Sylvain doesn’t even know where to begin. Syl looks happy, talking about Felix - _his husband, apparently_ \- but there’s an undercurrent of… something else to it. 

As much as Sylvain wants to know, Syl told them not to ask. So instead, he focuses on that other bombshell: “I marry Felix? For love?”

Syl snorts again, punching him in the shoulder. “Come on, I know I was oblivious but I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“I’m not oblivious!” Sylvain pouts. “I mean, I know Felix is… He is… But I always thought I’d marry some noblewoman and have a bunch of crest babies.”

“Trust me, I didn’t see it coming either. But it happened anyway.”

Sylvain leans forward, catching another glimpse of that ring. There’s a blue diamond engraved in the center, small enough to be unobtrusive, but big enough that you notice it if you look for too long. 

“How?”

Syl leans back on his elbows, half-slipping the ring onto his finger. It fits perfectly. “I really shouldn’t tell you, you know.”

“Come on,” he needles. “You know I can keep a secret.”

Syl sighs. “A battle.” 

Sylvain snorts.

“I know it’s not the most romantic location, but it’s Felix we’re talking about. One day, during a particularly difficult one… I was injured,” Syl says, looking down at the ring that’s still on his finger. He has a small smile on his face, one of the ones Sylvain never practiced in front of a mirror, one that he hadn’t polished because there was no need to; no one ever saw it. “Not badly, or anything, but enough to show. And afterwards, Felix just walked up to me while Mercie was patching me up. He grabbed me by my collar and said, ‘ _Sylvain, you are the biggest fool in all of Fódlan and I hate you_.’ And then he kissed me.”

That sounds like Felix. It sounds so much like Felix that Sylvain can almost imagine it playing out in front of him. A part of him aches with the knowledge that it might happen to him, someday. Somewhere. Somehow. 

“It must be embarrassing to hear yourself talk like that,” Syl says, laying a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. “But… he’s good for us, Sylvain. And we’re good for him.”

Sylvain doesn’t have anything more eloquent to say than “I… Yeah.”

“Just talk to him sometime, alright? After I’m gone, that is.” Syl winks at him, putting the ring back into the pouch tied to his belt. Somewhere safe. 

“Sure,” Sylvain says, face red. “Whatever.”

* * *

It becomes a little more bearable, seeing them together after that. Knowing that there is at least one universe in which he and Felix end up together is enough to calm Sylvain down a little. 

Only a little, though.

Syl leaves soon after that - not with a bang or a great announcement. One day, during lunchtime, he says, “Uh?”

They all turn around to stare at him.

“Well. See you guys later!”

And then he’s just… not there anymore. An empty spot. 

“Finally!” Sylvain says. “I think one of me’s already enough.”

Felix rolls his eyes. The rest of the Blue Lions just smile at him, with varying levels of sincerity. He doesn’t blame them, of course; they just “lost” a friend after all. 

Never mind the fact that that friend is him, just a bit older (and also _married to Felix_ ).

So, yeah. That’s how that whole debacle ends. Just with another lunchtime. Everyone quickly adjusts to a Syl-less life again. 

Except, well… Sylvain still has one last Syl-related thing to do. 

* * *

He finds Felix in the training grounds, hacking away at one of the dummies. He slips in quietly, no apple to passive-aggressively eat this time. He hasn’t been here in at least a week and a half, but nothing much has changed. 

Nothing, except that his favorite lance is hanging in the wrong spot, and the furious look on Felix’s face. 

He takes up the spot at his favorite pillar, the one that probably has a groove in the shape of his back with how much he stands there, just watching Felix. There is something about the focus in Felix’s eyes, the redness of his face, how controlled his movements are, that always has Sylvain eager to watch. 

And his fingers itch to touch. Now that he knows what Felix looks like - against _him_ \- panting and moaning, asking him for more, melting under his touch, Sylvain feels more fragile than ever. 

After a while the hacking stops. Sylvain stares even more intently at the line of Felix’s shoulders, willing him to turn around. Felix takes a deep breath, and Sylvain knows he has him. 

“Any reason you’re interrupting my training?” 

Sylvain grins, pushing off the pillar. He walks over to Felix with open arms. “Can’t I just want to hang out with my best friend?”

“Your best friend,” Felix deadpans. The grip on his sword tightens. “Whom you’ve been avoiding for two weeks.”

“Yeah, I…” _Just say it, Gautier. Get it over with._ “I was jealous?”

“You were jealous,” Felix says. “You were jealous of yourself.”

Sylvain scratches the back of his neck. “Well, now that you say it like that…”

Felix rolls his eyes, sheathing his sword. Good, at least Sylvain isn’t getting killed today. “It sounds stupid because it is.”

“Well, how should I have known that you’re attracted to me!”

Felix stomps over to him, hands thrown up in exasperation. He points a finger in Sylvain’s face, 

“Because he _is_ you, you fool. And you will be him. The only reason I fucked him and not you is because he _asked_ me.”

The anger on Felix’s face breaks, suddenly, his frown smoothing out and his eyes widening into something that looks suspiciously like… Like desperation. Sylvain inhales and resists the urge to just grab Felix and never let him go. 

“Oh,” he breathes. Then, “Felix?”

Felix hums, eyes still big in a way they usually aren’t. Sylvain’s fingers brush over Felix’s forearm - _finally, they’re touching_ \- and Felix shivers in response. 

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yes, you _fool_ ,” Felix says. His hand flies up to the back of Sylvain’s neck - just like he’d done with Syl, Sylvain can’t help but think - and he pulls Sylvain down to kiss him. 

Well, Sylvain thinks, grinning into the kiss. Maybe that whole time traveling had been worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I... DON'T know what that was but I hope y'all enjoyed it!!! I'm not that good at or comfortable with writing NSFW so please let me know whether or not you liked it ^^
> 
> Also, thank you to [Cha](https://twitter.com/akhikosanada) for beta'ing this for me, I really appreciate it <33
> 
> [Kinkmeme](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/)  
> [Fic tweet](https://twitter.com/reverethedeer/status/1260269602518564867?s=20)  
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/reverethedeer) (if you wanna follow me you can idk I retweet stuff mostly)


End file.
